Rescue the White Knight
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Set just after the end of Weiss Kreuz Gluhen. Youji finds Aya/Ran bleeding and unconscious beside the mailbox. From there, he is joined by the others, and determined to save the man Mamoru calls his White Knight. But can Youji bear the reminders of his past, and possible return of his memory? Can they truly save Aya?
1. Chapter 1: Chance Encounter

**Rescue the White Knight**

**Summary:** Youji finds Aya unconscious from the stab wound inflicted at the end of Gluhen, and takes him home. It's a surprise for him, to find out that Aya is the man who saved his life, over a year ago. Even more surprising when Ken and Mamoru/Omi show up, to look in on their wounded comrade. Working together, with Aya's sister and long ago lover, the former White Cross members work to save Aya's soul from the darkness. But the redemption of such a tortured soul is no easy task, and there are more fates at risk than Aya/Ran Fujimiya's. More questions to be answered. Can Youji withstand the risk of remembering, or bear the weight that once broke him and turned him against his friends? Can Ran truly be saved? Could it be that Ran's salvation is Mamoru's as well?

**Chapter ****One: ****Chance ****Encounter**

It was cold, and the snow that kept trying to drip down his collar was unpleasant. Youji hunched his shoulders up, pulling his scarf a little tighter around his throat.

He was headed home for the weekend, and he was looking forward to curling up in his apartment with his wife, Asuka. The thought of a day of rest, in her loving arms, helping her in the kitchen and perhaps watching a little TV with hot tea or cocoa sounded heavenly to him. He paused, glancing at the shops. Asuka was working long shifts for the next couple of days. She'd told him he didn't need to bring anything home for dinner, that she'd already set something aside in the fridge that could be easily reheated, but he found himself wondering if he should buy a nice little dessert or something, to show his appreciation. Perhaps something he could cook, as a treat for his loving spouse.

A small smile curved over his lips. He'd barely known her a year. In fact, he'd barely known anything for a year. His life before waking in the hospital bed with her at his side was a blank slate. But still...he was content. Despite hazy dreams that sometimes made him uneasy, he was happy. He enjoyed his job, as a junior assistant at one of the business firms downtown. He liked the house he shared with his wife. He enjoyed mundane little tasks, including gardening oddly enough, growing little plants in window pots for his wife, or to give to neighbors. He sometimes wondered if he'd been a gardener, or something of that nature, earlier in his life.

Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, breaking his train of thought. He stopped.

The mailbox. There was a man curled up next to the mailbox, leaning against it. From the way the snow was coating his hair and coat, he'd been there a while. And he didn't appear to be moving, curled into a tight crouch against the mailbox frame.

Curious, Youji moved closer. His first thought was that the man was a street bum or a homeless man who had collapsed from hunger or cold. But the gloves and the jacket looked too clean and new to be those of a homeless alley drifter, unless he'd happened to get them from a charity bin or stolen them. His hair, what could be seen of it under the snow fall, was a dark auburn color, neatly trimmed. His face was thin, but lacked the gauntness of a man who was starving. He was rather pale, but then, his lips were nearly blue with cold, and that was likely most of it.

Youji stepped another pace forward. "Sir?" He laid one hand against the man's throat.

At his touch, the man groaned, stirring slightly. Then he groaned again, clinching tighter around his waist.

"Sir? Are you ill? Injured?" Youji set his briefcase down and leaned forward, crouching over the man. "Sir, please answer me." He took the man's shoulders and pushed slightly, trying to get the man to sit up and look him in the face. "Can you tell me your name?"

He pushed the man upright, then gasped. Straightened, he could see what the coat and the arms tucked about the man's middle had been hiding.

The snow beneath him, the inside of the jacket, and his gloves were stained the deep crimson of blood. Youji leaned forward, gasping again as he saw the wound in the man's abdomen, partially covered by his arm, bleeding sluggishly over his wrist.

He didn't stop to think. Asuka always put a handkerchief in his inner pocket. He pulled it out, then peeled the man's arm away from his middle. The man groaned in pain and tried to push him away. Even with massive blood loss, he was stronger than Youji would have expected.

"Hold still. I'm trying to tend your wound." He pushed the man back, and the auburn-haired figure swayed and collapsed to lean back against the mailbox with a gasp.

The man was wearing a shirt and vest. There was a narrow tear in the fabric on his left side, and the edges were soaked with the man's blood.

Youji slapped his handkerchief to the wound, applying pressure as Asuka had taught him. With one hand he began working his tie loose to slip over his head. The wound needed to be bound, but it was small enough that the tie would make an adequate tourniquet until he could get the man to a hospital.

He got the tie loose, undid the knot. His fingers were going numb from the cold, but he couldn't stop. He caught one end of the tie in the hand pressing on the wound, then slipped the other inside the man's coat and behind his back.

There was a hard, thin object in the middle of the man's back. Youji froze. It felt like a knife sheath, and a long one at that.

He frowned. _Why would he be carrying a knife?_ Something about it struck a chord in his mind. Then he shook the thought away. It wasn't his business, and right now staunching the bleeding was his biggest priority.

He slipped the tie around, then switched hands and pulled it the rest of the way forward. His handkerchief was turning slowly crimson. He set his teeth, then made a quick knot and yanked it tight against the wound.

The man groaned, body arching slightly to escape him. One gloved hand caught at his wrist, holding him. Then the man groaned again, and his eyes opened, hazy with pain and hypothermia.

Youji spoke quickly. "Sir? Sir? Can you tell me your name?"

The man blinked at him, then his eyes widened. "Youji?" His voice was low and rough, and in his eyes was an expression of shocked disbelief, as if he'd been punched. "Youji? Why are you...?" is voice trailed off.

Youji swallowed, to surprised to say anything for a moment. Then he recovered. "Sir, I need to take you to a hospital. Can you tell me your name?"

Dark eyes searched his for a moment, looking for something, though he couldn't guess what. Then the man relaxed slightly, hand dropping away as he fell against the mailbox.

Youji twisted his wrist to keep the knot tight, then shook the man slightly. "Sir, I need to know your name."

The eyes cracked open again, glazed with shock. "Fuji...miya...Aya." Then he slumped backward, eyes closing as he went completely limp and unconscious.

Youji grimaced, then cinched the knot tighter, his own stomach tightening with unease when the injured man failed to even groan. Obviously, the man was slipping into shock. He draped his coat over the man, to provide a little more warmth, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the hospital.

It took him a moment or two to pinpoint his exact address, but within two minutes, he had given out the information, and been told an ambulance was on the way. He pocketed the phone, then settled down beside the wounded figure, studying the pale face.

_Fujimiya Aya...why does that name sound familiar? He's not an associate from work. Maybe I met him at the hospital? But then...why does he seem to know me? Is he...someone from my past?_

**_Author's Note: _**_And so it begins...__  
_


	2. Chapter 2: Good Samaritan

**Chapter ****Two: ****Good ****Samaritan**

The ambulance arrived twenty minutes later. Paramedics climbed out with a stretcher, looked the unconscious man over, stabilized the tourniquet, and loaded him up. One medic stopped to look at Youji, shivering in his damp shirt, and gestured him up as well. "Come on sir. We need to check you for hypothermia."

"I..." Youji started to defer, but the medic shook his head.

"Better safe than sorry sir. Besides...you're Asuka's husband. She'd be upset if we left you here and didn't bring you in, especially the way you're shivering." The medic gestured for him to take a seat.

That much was true. Youji nodded. "Thank you." He grabbed his briefcase with numb fingers, then levered himself up into the waiting ambulance.

Inside, the paramedics draped a blanket over him and directed him to a seat to one side. The one who'd put him in the van handed him a warming pack, wrapped in a towel, which he accepted gratefully. He'd have rather had some tea, or coffee, but it was far better than nothing. He cradled it in his lap, watching as the medics worked on their patient.

He'd already told them what to expect, and wasn't surprised when they simply ripped the shirt down the middle. One man kept the bandage, makeshift as it was, in place, while the other undid the man's belt and pulled everything off over his back to set to one side, leaving the man stripped to the waist. Then they got to work.

A gauze pad was substituted for his handkerchief, and a bandage for his tie. One man took his vital signs and frowned, murmuring about a low pulse, low temperature, low respiration. One man took a blood sample for analysis, another hooked up an IV line to start getting plasma and saline into his system, and an oxygen mask was bound to his face. Then a thermal blanket was draped over him, to combat the hypothermia.

Youji studied the man...Aya, as the paramedics worked. Fair skinned, but he'd almost expected that, with the color of the man's hair. His body was lean, muscles toned with almost no fat on him. Someone who worked out then, kept extremely fit. His face was...odd. He didn't look as if he should be that old, no older than Youji himself, but there were lines around the mouth and creasing the brow that suggested he was either older than he seemed, or had endured some incredible hardships.

Youji frowned, remembering the way Aya had spoken to him. _He __recognized __me. __But __how? __And __why? __And __how __did __he __wind __up __there, __and __injured __like __that? __It __doesn't __look __like __the __kind __of __injury __you'd __get __accidentally. __And __why __didn't __he __call __a __hospital, __or __go __to __a __medical __facility? __He __must __have __known __he __was __hurt. __Did __he __not __think __it __was __serious? __Or __was __he __trying __to __get __somewhere, __and __simply __collapsed __before __he __made __it?_

He frowned. He didn't think there was a hospital any closer than the one Asuka worked at. But perhaps Aya had been trying to reach a friend who could help him. A private practitioner. There were enough of those around, and Aya did look as if he could afford one.

Another thought crossed his mind. _Why __do __I __keep __thinking __of __him __as __Aya? __I __hardly __know __him, __so __why __does __it __seem __wrong __to __call __him __Fujimiya-san? __Or __even __Fujimiya __or __Aya-san? __Why __is __it, __that __I __feel __like __I __should __be __calling __him __informally?_

He considered the thought a moment, then shook it away. There were no answers for him, and with the man so badly wounded, it wasn't as if he was going to be well enough to answer any of them.

The jolting stop of the ambulance at the emergency entrance jarred him out of his thoughts. He pulled himself upright and grabbed his briefcase. He hesitated a moment, then reached out and gathered his and Aya Fujimiya's coat together, along with the torn clothing that had been stripped off the man. He didn't mind holding the man's things for him, and anyway, he wanted to check and see if Aya had a cell phone. If he did, he would try to access it, see if there was a friend or family member that he could call to apprise of the man's condition.

He hopped out of the ambulance and stepped back, out of the path of the stretcher. He watched in concern as the paramedics carefully lifted the wounded man out of the ambulance and onto the pavement. There was a small groan as the wheels touched the pavement, but other than that, Aya didn't stir, his face appearing almost as white as the snow drifting around them. One of the ER doctors was already waiting, sizing up the patient, barking orders, while one of the ever present nurses took the blood sample up for testing, so they could match the type and start him on the necessary transfusions.

"Youji?" The familiar voice startled him out of his concentration. He'd been so busy watching the medical team swarm around Aya, he hadn't heard his wife come up beside him. "I heard you'd called in a medical emergency..."

"Ah. Sorry if I worried you." He grimaced sheepishly. "I found a man collapsed by a mailbox on my way home, bleeding from some sort of wound to his stomach. I called an ambulance for him. They gave me a ride in because I gave him my coat, and I was cold." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine now. Just worried about him." He gestured to where the team of medics was wheeling the stretcher inside, heading for the ER, and probably an Operating Room.

Asuka followed his gestured, and stiffened. Immediately, Youji put an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"That man..." She frowned, her eyes clouded with concern. "That dark red hair and that face...he looks like the man who brought you to us. The man I spoke to about your care."

Youji blinked. "Are you sure?"

"I think so. I'd need to get a closer look."She seemed to consider a moment, then stepped forward, following the stretcher.

Inside, the doctor wheeled Aya into an operating room. The bandage was checked, monitoring wires attached to measure heart-rate, breathing, blood pressure and brain waves. Youji stood watching for a long moment, then turned to look at his wife. "Is that really...?"

She nodded. "I'm sure of it. I remember that face. His eyes were so sad." A small, melancholy smile touched her mouth. "He was so worried about you. It was odd though. When I called and told him you'd lost your memory, I asked him if he would come see you, to see if he could help you remember. And I remember what he said to me." She pursed her lips. "He said 'it's better if he does not remember me. Better that I vanish into the shadows. Let him be, and have the life he truly desires, free from the darkness.' And he hung up right after that and never answered the phone again, so I never learned what he meant by that."

Youji frowned. "He does seem familiar. I feel like...like I might have known him, from before." He turned his head to gaze at the man, surrounded by doctors as the emergency team worked on him."Did he tell you anything else?"

Asuka shook her head. "Only that you'd been caught in an accidental explosion, and been hit in the head by falling masonry. He wouldn't tell me the details. Just that you were injured, and he took off your shirt to see if there were any serious injuries underneath it, then wrapped you in your jacket to bring you in. And he told me your first name. But that's it."

"I see." Youji swallowed, staring at the still figure. His head was pounding with a thousand questions. _Where __was __I __when __I __was __injured? __What __was __I __doing __when __I __got __hurt? __Was __he __there, __or __just __passing __by? __Did __we __work __together, __or __were __we __strangers __who __happened __to __run __into __each __other? __How __well __did __he __know __me, __that __he __called __me __by __my __first __name?_

There were no answers available. He sighed, then looked down at the coats in his arm.

Asuka followed his gaze. "Oh...those look soaked. Here I can hang them to dry."

Youji nodded and handed her his. "Hold on a moment." He flipped Aya's jacket open.

A short dagger thudded to the ground. Youji picked it up, frowning. It was a large knife to be carrying for self-defense. Then again, considering how he'd found the man, he wasn't sure it was all that unreasonable. He wondered why Aya hadn't used it when he was injured, given that it looked as if he'd been stabbed. Although, perhaps it had been some sort of weird accident. He shook his head, then set it to one side.

A more thorough search revealed a wallet, a set of keys, and a phone in the inner pockets. A good protection against thieves and pickpockets. He flipped through the wallet, noting a reasonable sum of money, and an ID. The face matched Aya's, as did the name. He was interested to note that Aya was actually several years younger than he was. He seemed so much older, but the man was barely into his thirties.

He pocketed the wallet and keys to give Aya when he woke, then handed the wet coats to his wife. She took them away. After a moment of consideration, he opened his briefcase. There was just enough room inside for the knife, keys and wallet, so he set them inside and shut it again. That left him with just the phone.

He clicked it open. There was a locking code on it, but the code was disabled. Which made sense, as it was irritating to have to juggle a lock code on your phone when trying to answer a call. And he doubted Aya had expected to get injured, however it had happened, when he left his residence. Wherever it was. He hadn't recognized the address on the license.

He found the message and call log and frowned. There were several numbers, some of them repeated, but none of them had names. It was as if the man refused to put contact names in, or as if everyone who called him was a stranger. And the first several messages he reviewed were...impersonal. Far more so than he considered normal.

Even when he was chatting with his business associates and his boss, there was some sort of personality to the messages. Little greetings. Things like 'give your wife my best'. Questions. But these...

The first several messages he read were so terse they were barely even worthy of the name. Names, dates...numbers that he thought might be bank accounts, and a couple he knew were certainly payment amounts, though the numbers made his eyes widen. Terse messages, most consisting of some form of 'I have a job for you, can you do it?', which Aya had apparently responded to with equally brief replies, usually 'yes' or 'I need details'. Once there was a slightly longer refusal and apology. Apparently, he received more information on alternate sources, such as a computer or another phone, perhaps his home phone.

He wondered what job Aya had, that resulted in such tense conversations. It was possible the man was a consultant, or a government operative. Still...who was he supposed to call? There were no names, and a quick search revealed his contact list was, again, all numbers, no names.

Finally, more than two dozen messages in, he found an entry that was different. Still nameless, but the tone of this message wasn't so impersonal. Short, but much gentler, with warmth in it.

'Aya. I won't ask you to call me. I know you won't. I understand. And I won't call on you again. But...please be safe. Take care of yourself, my friend.' It was a text message, unsigned, a clear indicator that Aya most likely knew the sender, and probably quite well.

That was the most positive, personal message he'd found so far. He considered a moment, feeling mildly guilty for invading the man's privacy to this degree, then tapped the icon to call the number listed with the message.

The phone rang once, then twice. Then a click sounded and a voice. "Ran?"

It was a young man's voice, from the sound, though not a boy's. And even over the line, Youji could hear the breathless, hopeful sound to it. He swallowed hard. He wondered if he'd gotten a wrong number though. Who was Ran?

"Aya?" There was a note of confusion, and hurt, in that voice now.

Youji swallowed again, then spoke, trying to keep his voice as even and calm as possible. "I'm sorry. I'm not Aya. My name is Itou Youji."

A brief pause, and when the other man spoke, the voice was much cooler, more professional. "I see. Why are you calling me from Fujimiya's cell phone?" His voice now held all the tones of a high level business executive.

Youji took a deep breath. "I found Fujimiya-san beside a mailbox this evening. He was severely hurt, and I brought him to a hospital. He's in treatment now, and I don't know his condition. I apologize for disturbing you and calling you unexpectedly, but your number was in his message history, and your message to him...it sounded as if you might be friends with Fujimiya-san. I'm sorry if I made an incorrect assumption."

"Well, it would be a more correct assumption to say we were close associates, long ago. However...I have always considered him to be my friend." The voice was thoughtful, heavy and slightly sad. "Though I do not know if Aya thinks of me that way, or if he ever did. However...thank you for calling, Itou-san. If it isn't too much trouble, could you tell me what hospital you took him to?"

"It's no trouble." Youji gave him the name of the hospital. "Do you need me to wait for you, or tell the doctors to expect you?"

"That isn't necessary." The refusal was polite, but firm. "I will take care of everything."

"Very well." Youji shifted. He was tired, and beginning to feel it. "I don't work at the hospital, but when you get here, please ask for my wife, Itou Asuka. She will probably be tending to Fujimiya-san. I will make sure she has his phone and other belongings, if you wish to collect them for him."

A thin, distant chuckle echoed over the line. "I doubt Aya would want me to collect his belongings. But thank you. I will most certainly look up Itou-san when I arrive." Something made a noise in the background, then the man spoke again. "My apologies, Itou-san, but I have something I must attend to. I will make plans to visit Fujimiya-san tomorrow." A momentary silence occurred. "Thank you, Itou-san. However Aya feels about me, I am glad that I know what has happened to him."

"You're welcome." There wasn't much more to say to that, and the line went dead a second later. Youji considered a moment, then closed the phone with a snap, frowning. He'd never even gotten the man's name. It struck him as slightly rude that the other had never returned his introduction. Then again, the man obviously hadn't expected a call from the phone he now held, and he certainly couldn't have expected someone he didn't know to be calling him from the cell phone of someone he clearly knew and cared for. And given the way Aya had left all names off of his cell phone, perhaps there was a reason to be cautious that he had no knowledge of.

He sighed, then shook the thoughts firmly to the back of his mind and left to find Asuka.

_**Author's Note: **Things are moving on. What do you think about what's happened? And who did Youji call?_


End file.
